


Autumn Leaves

by vorpatrils



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:31:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorpatrils/pseuds/vorpatrils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is wed to a man she does not trust. Her mother returns to her in Highgarden with long-lost Arya, nearly a year after her wedding. Winter is fast approaching. Will the ladies of House Stark survive it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa turned in her bed nervously. Margaery had invited her to dinner that night and told her that the next morning in Court the King would have a surprise for her. She also said that she would bring breakfast to Sansa the next morning.

 

She had given no hint as to the King’s intentions and her thoughts ran wild, panic filling her chest until her heart beat fast and pounded in her ears. Tears spilt down her cheeks and she began breathing heavily, whimpering as she struggled not to make a sound. Sansa’s head swam and she struggled to gulp in more air. She felt as if she was drowning. She desperately hugged her pillow and tried her best to muffle her sobs and wails with it. It would not do for any to know that she sobbed in her bed at night. They would tell the Queen and she would be summoned and Sansa would have to lie through her teeth again.

 

There were only so many excuses she could make.

  
Thankfully though, she was only a week away from her moonblood. She could always claim that it was a woman’s madness that made her cry so. Of course, she could always do as she thought she would, those first days after Father’s death. She could throw herself from her window as Ashara Dayne had done so many years ago. Sansa found some solace in that thought. She would be with Bran and Rickon at least.

A hundred years from now the Kingdom of the North would sing of cruel King Joffery and the highborn maid who had loved him. They would sing of the betrayed Lord Stark and the Young Wolf that had snatched back his ancestors crown from the Iron Throne and fought to protect her, only to find that she had killed herself from her despair.

Sansa couldn’t do that to Robb. Not to Mother. She had to live for them. She had to hold on, just a while longer. She would be strong.

She did not know how long she stayed like that, trying not to sob as panic washed over her again and again.

***

Sansa awoke early the next morning. She had an aching head and her throat was dry. She shoved off her blankets and went to her breakfast table. There was a jug of water there and Sansa drank deep. She used what was left to wash her eyes and cheeks.

She willed herself to calmness and distracted herself by dressing, putting on everything from her smallclothes to her hair ribbons slowly and methodically. Sansa took special care to make sure every seam on her dress ran straight and there were no wrinkles to be seen. Five times she brushed and braided her hair in a Southron style until finally she was satisfied.

There was a knock on the door and she bid the person enter.

It was Margaery. Hanging from her arm was a basket full of fruit. Her hair was in the loose and flowing style she favoured and she wore a neat gown of plain green silk with gold embroidery on the hem. She had draped a green shawl over the basket.

“Sweet fruit is the best thing to break our fast. Willas has sent me the best apples from our orchards.” Margaery said smiling. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. “I swear that I am near so impatient to call you sister for true that I almost wish you would marry Willas this very instant.” Margaery put the basket on Sansa’s breakfast table, carefully folding the shawl over and placing it on the table. She deliberately gave Sansa the best of the fruit, apples so sweet and crunchy that one bite was not nearly enough. The fruit was served on porcelain plates, painted a deep green.

They broke their fast together and Margaery assured her that Joffery’s promise was nothing awful. But she could on no terms tell her, for Joffery had sworn her to secrecy, as she had sworn him.

Sansa still worried. _What if he lied to Margaery and only means to beat me again?_ She barely touched her apple out of nerves. She sat staring down at the fruit in her plate. A thought occurred to her and she smiled. Margaery noticed and smiled at her. “Sansa! Are you so in love with my brother that you smile even at food he sends you? For shame!”

Sansa ducked her head. “I was only thinking.” Margaery grasped her hand. “Thinking of what?”

“Willas seems such a good man. True and kind. Are you utterly sure he wants to marry me? I am from a traitorous family and I have no dowry. Nor any alliance. What if he does not like me? What if the King turns against him?”

“Joffery will not turn against him. Willas is the best man there is.”

 Margaery gave a little squeal. “Oh Sansa! You will love your gift. Joffery and I have planned it alone in secret. Even the Queen does not know of it. Nor even Varys I think. I would so like to tell you but Joffery says I must put on a mummers show for his mother and it would be no good for you to expect it.” Joffery had given her the gift of mercy and her father’s head. There was no love in that.

Panic came again. Margaery had been so kind, so loving. Would she too turn her back on her? Would Margaery have her humiliated before the Court to secure her place in Joffery’s attentions? She had been sure of the Queens love once and she had been betrayed then too.

When the time came Margaery and Sansa walked to the throne room hand in hand. Sansa had at first walked with her hands clasped tightly before her but Margaery had taken one of her hands and Sansa did not think it a good idea to refuse her. She was close to tears. Sansa had thought Margaery a true friend but even now she did not make her intentions clear other than an all encompassing pleasantness. She felt awful too. What if Margaery truly had no bad intentions but Sansa suspected the worst of her anyway? Cersei was nowhere to be seen. Margaery had said that no one but Joffery and she knew of her surprise. “Where is the Queen?” Sansa asked her quietly. “Her Grace was complaining of a stomach upset last night” Margaery whispered back. “Perhaps she is still unwell.”

Margaery made sure that they sat at a small bench to the side of the throne’s dais where they would have the best view of those coming to ask the kings favour. Sansa looked over the petitioners. There were some ragged looking smallfolk and some women. Joffery dispensed the justice as he saw fit. A man who had come to beg the King for justice for his murdered son was given a sword and shield and told to kill the man himself. Margaery still held her hand.  A Fleabottom man who had been left crippled and homeless was given ten gold dragons. _That was foolish_ Sansa thought. _He will be dead and robbed before he ever spends it._

The crowd of petitioners was gone and still Sansa had not been called. The nobles had started to filter out of the room when there was a commotion at the doors. Ser Garlan and Ser Loras entered the hall, followed by another man.

His hair was a dark brown and his eyes the Tyrell gold. He wore a rather odd hat, wide brimmed and plumed with a feather. He wore leather riding clothes. A brown cape was around his shoulders and he had a brace on one of his legs.

Sansa went stock still. Was this Willas come to save her? Sansa whipped her head toward Margaery, Margaery was grinning like she had never seen before. Mrgaery kissed her cheek and went to stand in front of the King. She knelt in front of the throne. All three of her brothers did the same behind her. Sansa didn’t like that. Garlan and Loras had no problem doing so but it was obvious that Willas _Her Willas!_ had some trouble doing so.

“Your Grace!” Margaery called. “I have come to make a request of you my love.” She turned her face upwards and smiled brightly and happily.

Joffery nodded, smiling back at her. Sansa’s heart beat fast. “We Tyrells have always been of a romantic sort your grace. As I came to love you when Renly waged his traitorous war, so my brother has the lady Sansa Stark.”

Willas and his brothers stood then. “I love San - Lady Stark as I would a sister your grace, if the gods had granted my mother another daughter.” Margaery continued. “I would humbly beg that you allow her to be my sister in name and that you allow my beloved brother my happiness at having found a good and noble lady to love.” Margaery stood then and took Willas’ hand. She then turned to Sansa and smiled, reaching for her. Sansa slowly walked towards her. She kept her head bowed and a wary eye on Joffery. Her body felt stiff and her heart thumped. Sansa reached Margaery’s side and once more Margaery took her hand. Whilst she had been walking over Willas had quickly snatched the hat from his head.

So the three of them stood hand in hand.

Joffery made a show of thinking it over, frowning and putting his chin on his hand whilst resting an elbow on the Throne’s arm. He hissed as a blade scratched his elbow.

“I would grant your request my lady but-” Joffery let the words hang. Sansa’s heart leapt to her throat. _I must not look at him so close_ Sansa thought. _I must not look at Willas and hope._ Sansa thought of all she had wanted. Willas. Barges, puppies and children. The King would not grant them to her, nor any happiness in the seven realms. “But what my love?” Margaery asked. Joffery shook his head. “Surely even Lady Sansa knows why I would not think well of the match?” Joffery looked at her. Sansa’s throat seized. Her whole body throbbed dully and she began to sweat “Well don’t you? Tell Lord Willas, if you do.” Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Willas turn to look at her.

Sansa felt tears prick her eyes. _I must not weep_. Even this Joffery would not spare her. She swallowed and looked determinedly at Margaery’s shoes. She spoke in a quiet voice. “I am a traitor’s daughter and sis-”

“Speak up!” Joffery called. “Look the man in the eyes as you speak to him! Does traitors blood rot the manners as well as the morals?” Sansa took another deep breath and looked up. Her breath hitched.

His features were rather sharp and his nose rather pointy. He kept a moustache and a beard trimmed so short it was nearly stubble. His hair was a darker brown than his brothers and sister but up close she saw that while it curled, it was still tangled from the road, leaving tufts of hair sticking oddly out from his hair. But worst of all, the worst thing was that he half-smiled at her. He did not smile as others did, falsely and coldly. He saw fit to smile apologetically, _kindly._ _It has been long since I saw a kind smile from a man_ she thought. She looked him in the eyes and for a split second she saw what could have been. _I will not mourn_ Sansa thought _I will keep this smile in my heart._

“I am a traitors daughter my lord Tyrell” She said clearly. She thought back bitterly on her words earlier to Margaery. “I am the daughter and sister of traitors. I’ve traitors blood, my lord, and no wealth to give you, no dowry. Nor any alliance.” Her voice trembled. “My brother is a traitor and so is my lady mother. If the king forbids the marriage I will comply as his loyal ward.” Sansa looked up at Joffery. She would not look upon Willas again. She would not be cruel to herself.

Joffery smiled at her. “My lady told me of her brother’s love for you only last night Lady Sansa. Do you think him worthy of your love?” Sansa took a deep breath. How would she answer this, so as not to ire Joffery or insult Willas? How could Margaery be this cruel, to watch as Joffery dashed her happiness away? “I find him worthy your Grace. There are not many who would hear of a lady with traitor’s blood and love her. Any man with that much love in his heart would be well worth twice of my own” Sansa cringed internally. She sounded like a lovestruck fool from some song. Songs were not real. Joffery’s smile grew wider. “I know of your sister’s love for Lady Sansa but I do not know yours, Ser Garlan, Ser Loras” He raised his chin high, as if ordering some great deed. “I would know your thoughts on this, as loyal brothers and knights”

Ser Loras stepped forward and took the knee. “I confess, when first I came to Kings Landing I was horrified that my sister had taken up with the daughter of a traitor. As time passed I saw instead that Lady Sansa is a sweet and kind girl. I would go so far your Grace, as to say she is near as much a victim of her family’s treachery as you are. By her father and brothers treachery she has been left alone and near friendless in the world.” He shook his head. “But I sincerely believe that Lady Sansa herself is innocent of any wrongdoing in this. Why, she reminds me so of Margaery at her age that I feel some protectiveness about her. I would be happy indeed to call her sister.”

Joffery nodded. “I feel the same Ser Loras” Sansa near laughed out loud. Sansa nearly wept.

Ser Garlan took the knee then. “I must say your grace, that my feelings towards Lady Sansa have been much the same as Loras’. She too is a victim in all this. But I also say, she is a good twelve years my brother’s junior and a maid of only thirteen. Far too young to be wed in my opinion” Sansa kept her head bowed demurely. “Perhaps your grace, with your permission, Lady Sansa would make her way to Highgarden before the wedding and spend some time with my lady mother. As noble as your mother the Queen is, she must be far too busy with affairs of state and her mourning of your noble father to have taught Lady Sansa the running of a household and such.”

Joffery stood and descended the throne. “I would grant you a wife and sister my lords, with all the love of a brother” Sansa held her breath. “But I do not trust Lady Sansa not to turn her sons against me” Joffery stood before her and took her chin in his hand. “I admit, also, that I still have some love for her left in my heart as a brother, and would wish her happiness.” Joffery kissed her cheek. Sansa did not shudder. Joffery moved back and stood in front of the throne, muttering under his breath as if he were in deep thought. He stopped walking, quite suddenly, and clapped his hands together.

“I have decided. Sansa Stark will wed Willas Tyrell and her sons will come to foster with me and their lady aunt the Queen, when they have passed their tenth nameday.” Sansa gasped. Could she truly do such a thing? Marry a man she did not know and condemn her sons to Joffery? _Perhaps it would not be so bad with Margaery here_ she tried to tell herself but she could not abide the thought of her children in King’s Landing.

Margaery gave a cry of happiness and embraced her. Sansa retuned the embrace feeling numb.

“And so they shall be wed!” Joffery called. Sansa saw no reason why Joffery would call this out to an apprehensive room until she saw the High Septon hurrying toward them. Her eyes widened.

“Margaery wha-” she started before being silenced by Margaery with a finger to her lips. Margaery embraced her again. “You will be wed now and then swiftly to Highgarden you shall go to be wed again.” She whispered. Sansa did not like this. She felt ill, utterly ill. She was to wed in a plain dress, with not even a scrap of Myrish lace or a veil. She was elated to be gone but would she have no wedding feast? Would there be anything to mark this as a true wedding?

The ceremony, such as it was, was not long. The Septon read from the holy book. Sansa blushed deeply. She had imagined wearing a fine veil to wed Willas, peeking shyly under her lashes at her handsome husband. But she had none and could not stomach the thought of gazing at him for so long. How could she? His silent agreement to send her children to Joffery sickened her.

Finally, the Septon pronounced them one heart, one flesh, one soul. Willas kissed her softly upon the lips. Joffery and Margaery both gave a cheer, which prompted the rest of the court to follow.

“And now my lords and ladies” Joffery called. “Sansa Stark is now Sansa Tyrell! With my gladdest hopes may she and her lord husband make haste to Highgarden!” The doors opened and a fine grey horse was led in, it’s tack and saddle a fine green leather. Sansa looked quickly to Willas. His face had gone stony still.

“My-my lord.” She stammered out. He looked at her. _Oh but he is handsome_ Sansa thought to herself. “Can you ride? Only your leg- Surely not all the way? I do not wish you an injury.” Willas nodded curtly. “There are many wayhouses among the Roseroad. I can ride.”

The horse was brought up next to them. Margaery and Loras both kissed her on the cheek and when Garlan did so he swept her up and put her in the horses saddle. Garlan then helped Willas into the saddle in front of her. “Your arms around my waist my lady” Willas whispered.

And with that Sansa rode out of the Red Keep and out of King’s Landing as the wife of Lord Willas Tyrell.


	2. Chapter 2

Catelyn sat in the very back of the grove that the Hound had led her to. She ran her hands through her short hair. There was enough left that it had started to curl in the dampness of the air. It was shorter than even Rickon’s had been. Her heart ached when the thought crossed her mind.

All her sons, dead. For all she knew Bran and Rickon were not even buried, their bodies left on the gates of Winterfell to rot, their bones falling to the ground below for dogs to gnaw. She knew full well what had happened to Robb’s. She had prayed that perhaps some leal men were left in Winterfell had put their bones in the Crypts, near Brandon and Lyanna and Lord Rickard.

She liked that thought. Her innocent children sheltered by their blood as she had failed to do. Perhaps Lyanna saw her poor murdered nephews and had helped them to whatever lay beyond the living realm for those who followed the Old Gods. Perhaps Lord Rickard put Rickon on his knee and perhaps Brandon taught Bran the sword. All of them dead as a consequence of love and lust.

But her daughters remained to her. Sansa, a Tyrell now, a Tyrell but blessedly _alive_ was the Lady of Winterfell and the future Lady of Highgarden. Catelyn had relinquished the title of Lady of Winterfell to Jeyne Westerling and now her own daughter. Jeyne Westerling, Queen of the lost North. What had happened to her? If she had been with child when they had left she would surely be doomed. That or the child would be used by the Lannisters as a claim to the North. There was some frighteningly spiteful part of her that wished for Jeyne to deliver a stillborn, that wished for Jeyne to feel all the agony that she had, for Jeyne to hold a dead son in her arms as she had, that wished for Jeyne to never hold a living child in her arms, to consign her to the madness and despair that poor Lysa had suffered.

Over and over she had relished in the thought of it during her imprisonment at the Twins before the Hound had rescued her. She had stewed in her hate, as Lord Frey dressed her in red dresses, red shoes, had served wine as bloody red as her Robb’s blood as it had spilt on the floor and given her bloody pieces of meat, had clothed and washed her world with red, red _red_ until one day as she sat having her hair brushed by Roslin, poor Roslin already with child that could be the death of her brother, she had screamed out her madness, had thrashed against the poor girl and grabbed the dagger that she had been eating with and cut away all the red _, damnably red_ hair that Ned had loved.

The Hound had come to her but a few weeks later, rescuing her like some knight from a tale though he was no true knight anointed by oils and prayer. He had told her that a few days away Arya was hiding amongst the children of an innkeeper and that he had a boat to take them down the Green Fork to her. She had laughed at first, thought he was no more than a ghost of madness until he had cuffed her round the head with a fist and in her dazed state somehow carried her down to the boat and down the river. She had learnt upon arriving at the inn that Lord Frey was dead, murdered in his bed by persons unknown. House Frey had turned on itself and most of the men of the house were now fighting for the Twins, accusing the others of murder and kinslaying.

It was then that the Hound and herself had finally arrived at the inn. He had walked her up to the rooms where the innkeeper’s younger daughters slept and opened the door for her.

He had sworn so loudly when he had discovered that Arya was not in the room that a serving woman had rushed in with a knife and put Catelyn behind her, fearing that she was to be murdered or raped. Catelyn had calmed the Hound and the woman and asked after the child that the Hound had left behind a few days ago.

The serving woman had nodded and said that the child had left only a few hours before but not before passing the innkeeper a note to give to the Hound. They had gone down to the innkeeper and he passed them a note which read _I will return in three days._ Catelyn had near fallen again into despair at the words until after taking her outside, the Hound explained that it was a code and that it meant she was hiding in a specific grove in the woods nearby. Sandor asked for a good clean change of clothing for her and a shawl to cover her head with.

It was at the inn that she heard whispers of Sansa. She had already known that she had married Willas Tyrell. She had raged at it at first but had accepted it as it meant Sansa was safe and far away from any Lannisters who would do her harm. Catelyn had no doubt that Mace Tyrell thought himself quite clever. A foot in both camps and the only, as far as he knew, surviving claim to Winterfell firmly in his hands.

There were whispers that Sansa was with child, or had just given birth or had fallen into despair and madness after a stillborn boy. Catelyn hoped with all her heart that these were just hope or rumours of pregnancy told again and again until they made little sense. Sansa was far too young to be a mother. It had been long since Catelyn had kept a calendar but going by years alone Sansa was four and ten at the eldest. Willas Tyrell was thirty at the youngest is she had her namedays right, twice Sansa’s age.

On the rare occasions that she had heard of him in conversation Willas Tyrell was never said to be anything less than a gentleman for all that he was crippled. She hoped he was good to Sansa. She hoped he had the sense to wait a few years for children, owing to Sansa’s age. But even then she had to admit, with Robb dead it would made a terribly cold sort of sense for Sansa to have a child as soon as possible, if only to secure her and the child’s claim on the North.

There were whispers that Mace Tyrell meant to crown her as Queen in the North.

Sansa was not a Queen. Gods willing she never would be. Aerys, Robert, Robb, Renly all claimed to be kings and all were dead now and she knew well the fate of the almost-Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. Neither of her daughters would ever wear a crown if she could help it. By the Seven if Mace Tyrell even _tried_ to crown Sansa she would scratch his eyes out. As for her goodson, Catelyn could only hope that Willas was a good and sensible enough man to protect Sansa from his father’s ambition if the rumours were true.

So here she sat, waiting for Arya to be returned to her. Would Arya even recognise her? She had cut away most of her hair and scarred her face with her own nails. Even now Catelyn could not remember clearly the faces of her daughters. How it shamed her! She could remember clearly the faces of her sons. Had she become like Robb, seeing no value in her own living daughters during her madness?

She heard running and Arya, hair shorn, dirty and bruised appeared at the mouth of the cave.

“Arya!” The girl ran to her and threw her arms around her shoulders, kissing her cheeks over and over.

“Mother I’m sorry I’m so sorry I tried to save you but the Hound hit me over the head-” Catelyn shushed her and stroked her hair, kissing the lump on the back of her head. “Shh Shh I am here there is nothing to be sorry for sweetling absolutely nothing.” She held her daughter, stroking her tears away, kissing her face and crying with her.

When they had both calmed Arya sat by Catelyn’s feet with her head in her mother’s lap and her eyes closed. Catelyn stroked Arya’s patchy hair. There was little left of it in some places and finger-long lengths of it in others. Catelyn had never thought that one day her hair would be shorn shorter than Arya’s. She kissed Arya’s head gently and dared to hope that soon she might do the same for Sansa.

*****

The road to Highgarden would be long and dangerous Sandor warned. Catelyn had quickly scolded Arya for naming him as a dog saying any man who had reunited her with her child deserved at least to be called his own name. Arya had frowned and pouted then but had complied easily enough.

Sandor led Stranger with Catelyn and Arya both astride the warhorse. Catelyn was in front and Arya wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and pushed her face between Catelyn’s shoulder blades. Arya held her too tight and pushed her face into aches and bruises from sleeping on the hard earth but Catelyn did not mind. Her daughters were alive and she was happier than she had been in a long time. She would rather her bruises be poked than be separated from her again.

Her belly hurt from hunger, as did Arya and Sandor’s no doubt. She made no complaint of it though.  From  the tale of her escape from Kings Landing that Arya had told her and her time at Harrenhal that Arya refused to speak about it was obvious that her daughter had been near constantly starving in the time she was lost to her. Catelyn would make no such complaint when Arya had suffered so much more.

The sun was shining high and they were riding on a well kept road with a field to one side and a line of trees to the other when they passed some bodies on the road. Two young men from the looks of it. Arya quickly hopped down and started rifling through the bags at their side. Sandor swore at her but made no move to stop her. Catelyn stared after her. Her heart ached. Her daughter, so young and for so long motherless, was reduced to looting corpses for food.

Arya picked up one of the bags and passed it to Sandor. “There’s some salted meat in here, a waterskin and some fresh looking apples! One for each of us.” She said excitedly. She turned to Catelyn then. “Mother do you want one?” Aryas face fell then. She shoved the apple she was holding into Sandor’s hands then and rushed over, stopping at Stranger’s side and grabbing onto her mother’s leg. “Please don’t be angry. Only we’re so hungry mother.” Catelyn laid her hand softly upon Arya’s head. “I am not angry Arya. Only sad.” Arya looked unsure. “I should like an apple if you would pass me one.”

Arya nodded and took an apple from the second bag, passing the bag and apple up to her. Catelyn took the apple and bit into it. It tasted sweet. Catelyn smiled gently and passed it down to Arya for a bite. “This one is quite sweet Arya and I would share it with you and Sandor. It shall fill our bellies for now. Salted beef on sore and empty bellies shall only make us ill” Arya smiled and took a bite before passing it to Sandor who answered with gruff thanks. Catelyn looked through the second bag, pleased to find another waterskin and more salted meat.

They moved on after that, their bellies no longer groaning for food. Only a few days after they met upon a man willing to take them downriver. They could not take the sea to Highgarden they were told, due to the ironborn stirring up trouble. As it was they were able to secure passage to Lord Harroway’s town. From there on they spent weeks travelling. To Acorn Hall to Stoney Sept where Robert had fought a great battle, they travelled across the gold road to Bitterbridge, where Renly Baratheon had died. They were hunted once or twice by brigands and deserters but Sandor kept them safe, through some miracle.

It was there that Catelyn, who had for so long thought only of survival, thought of how exactly they would enter Highgarden. There were some who thought herself and Brienne of Tarth responsible for Renly’s death. Would the Reachermen help them or cast them out if she named herself? Sansa was the key to it. She would not see her mother and sister harmed. But might Sansa be harmed by Lannister’s if it got about that her mother and sister lived?

She asked Sandor for his opinion whilst they shared a meal of dried fish.

“I’d  make sure you were in the castle before you named yourself. Demand to see Lady Tyrell at the gates and they’ll just shoo you away like an old washerwoman.”

Catelyn flinched at that. Not at being called an old washerwoman an insult that Arya immediately avenged by throwing the bones of her fish at him with an angry cry. She disliked Sansa being called a Tyrell. The Tyrells still supported the Lannisters. The Tyrells had no reason to welcome supposedly dead Stark’s to their halls. She pushed it from her mind. Sansa would surely, surely see them.

“We shall go down the Mander directly to Highgarden then” She declared. “You shall declare that you have brought Lady Sansa a girl who claims to be her sister. I shall stay with her if she is brought to a Tyrell.”

A few days travel they came upon a ferry where the Mander met the Blue Byrn that would take them down to Cider Hall, from which they would have to walk to Highgarden. They reached Cider Hall in good time. They were upon what passed for a road between Highgarden and Cider Hall when they were set upon by a small band of robbers. Sandor quickly picked up Catelyn as if she was nothing and put her atop Stranger with Arya and drew his sword, swearing as he slapped Stranger’s withers to urge him down the road.

Catelyn was doing her best to control Stranger and keep him in a straight line when in front of them one of the robbers made an attempt to grab Stranger’s reins. He was quickly trampled for his troubles, his bones cracking under the warhorses hooves. Catelyn was struggling not to lose control of the horse when there was a great hue and cry further down the road. Tyrell men both ahorse and on foot were coming towards them.  Stranger attempted to charge them but Sandor yelled out and Stranger calmed himself. Catelyn instead urged him to the side of the road, away from the robbers and Tyrell men.

The fight was short and the Tyrell men quickly killed or bound the men.  The leader of the men went to Catelyn and Arya’s side. “Will you give me your name my lady?” Catelyn gave him a cold look and tightened her hold on the reigns. “Only if you give me yours Ser” Arya called tightening her grip on Catelyn’s waist.

The man gave Arya a sour look. “My name is Garlan Tyrell. Now what is yours mistress?”

Catelyn breathed deep and exhaled. “I am lady Catelyn Stark. My daughter the Lady Arya rides with me.”


End file.
